


Shattered Sparks

by Kit_SummerIsle



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orion is a prince of Iacon and he’s given to the Kaon king as bondmate. Megatron is not happy about him. Neither is Orion, but he can’t do anything about it…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wait

**Author's Note:**

> I was writing Consort, the latest chapter, when I realized that the story, despite of the pretty dark start, became quite happy and almost fluffy. Then I started to wonder, if I could write the way it started, retaining the dark mood and not induce any positive changes into characters, like Megatron. It turned out quite bleak and dark and ended up in a tragedy, basically an AU of an AU. You’ve been warned.
> 
> To signify the differences, I also changed the characters’ names slightly and it gave me another idea that will be clear to those who read it till the end. :-)

The crystal garden was small but perfectly arranged, carefully maintained and lovingly tended by the monks who have never been afraid of hard work and thus the smallish garden was always in a beautiful condition. The many colours of the glittering growths blended together in harmony, the different types of crystals chosen carefully for the best effect. Here and there were small benches and statuettes half-hidden among the softly chiming and tingling shapes to provide respite among the quiet and harmonious sounds for the monks that needed it, away from the monastery and the bustling fields where energon was constantly harvested from the more industrious variations of the same crystals. Not many of the monks enjoyed the peaceful harmony of the gardens often, as most of them preferred meditating in the quiet of their quarters, so the gardens were often empty, the crystals chiming their soft melodies to no mech.

But a small figure sat huddled among the densest cluster of the glittering growths, perching at the very end of the bench, where the largest crystal could hide him nearly completely from any others who might walk by on the path. He was small by the standards of the region, some type of a grounder by the wheels that adorned the bright blue legs that pattered softly on the cut metal tiles of the path. The red shoulder pauldrons huddled forward as he sat there, the servos somewhat nervously wringed from time to time. He didn’t look like a monk, lacking their timeless wisdom and smiling acceptance of Primus’s will and also the mark of the monastery that would identify him as one of the dedicated mechs of the cluster. 

The bowed blue helmet lifted suddenly, the audial antennae almost visibly straining to hear a noise that he waited for, expected… and somewhat feared too. The shutters over the blue optics spiralled open fully and he searched the skies above the quiet little garden - but the sound proved to be a different one that he’d secretly wished for and the red shoulders slumped again, the masked helm bent forward again. Behind the smooth silver mask the full lips tightened and a small sigh escaped that no mech heard. The huge crystal beside him that leaned over the smaller mech chimed sympathetically to him. It has heard many of those sighs and even small, muffled sobs over the last few groons. 

_He won’t come, Orion, face it. It’s already later than he usually turns up._ The nearly silent murmur hardly even reached his own audials and even had a mech stood a mere pede-step away, he could have missed the soft sound of the musical voice. He sighed again and retreated even further beneath and behind the crystal, wishing to be passed by the monks who sometimes came for a little stroll before the evening fuel. They usually held his wish to go unnoticed in respect, but there were always some who’d try to cheer him up. And Orion didn’t want to be cheered, couldn’t rather – but they didn’t know it. Only the abbot did and he would never betray Orion’s secret, the reason why he sought to be alone and trusted not even the monks who never harmed a single living being.

The rest of them would never identify him with the consort of the king, especially as most of them hardly ever watched the newscasts to know about him. Not that he appeared in the news all that often, at least not by picture or video. No, the Kaon media did not care much about the reclusive consort of Megatronus, when they could talk far more about the famous king, always generating a scandal, winning a war or cunningly defeat a political enemy. From time to time a reporter enquired about the lack of heirs to the throne, but the robust, still young warlord deterred any such questions with gusto and Orion was never directly asked. 

It has been vorns since a media crew was contracted to do a short introduction of the Royal Consort, after some talks that he never appeared in public aside from formal royal events - and the resulting, boring video has never became popular. Much like Orion himself, the young mech grimaced under the cover of the mask. He never expected to anyway. The blue helm angled upwards once more, the optics searching the slowly darkening sky for a few more kliks, hoping against hope to see that little, telltale speck on it – but the vastness above remained resolutely empty and Orion suppressed another sigh. Nestling even closer to the ponderously thrumming crystal, he tried to dispel the memories that came to him. But there was nothing to take his mind off of them…

_“Get him ready at once!”_

_The authoritative voice sounded loud and the tone brooking no arguments in front of his door and Orion was startled fully online from a pleasant half-dream he dozed off into over his datapad. Snatching the thing up in front of him, like he was studying it, he sat up on the berth at the sound of his stepsire’s dreaded voice. He wondered briefly what was the reason for the apparent hurry in the tone – as far as he knew there was nothing planned for him on this orn. As the entrance of his quarters opened and two servants’ hurried steps approached his room, Orion stood up to greet his stepsire respectfully as he always demanded. It was not a good idea to displease the feared ruler of Iacon, not even for a Prince._

_“And make him look desirable this time, you idiots!”_

_Especially not a Prince not of his line, unwanted, despised and more or less ignored by his half-brothers. Too bad, Orion thought that Sentinel… Lord Sentinel to him, didn’t ignore him the same way. He’d’ve preferred it that way instead of being more or less decided to be sold to any foreign ruler who wanted an Iaconian royal prince in their berth. As the servants bustled around him, checking his frame for any scratches and hurriedly polishing it to a high shine, Orion waited for the large orange and blue mech to enter with a little nervous flutter in his tanks._

_It had to be another attempt to get rid of him by selling the Iaconian prince for a favourable treaty with some insignificant kingdom or other. Orion has refused to enter into a bond three times already and he knew that he had exceeded his rights in that – whoever asked for his servo next he’d have to accept now or be stripped of rank, wealth and sold as a common slave. Maybe even to the same Lord whom he refused. He swallowed uneasily, digits tightening into a fist before settling his turbulent processor. It wasn’t easy under Sentinel’s disdaining, hard sneer, directed at him, but he brought his nervousness under control._

_He couldn’t even claim to be too young any more. At barely more than a hundred vorns he was considered eligible for bonding as well as carrying sparklings and his Sire’s lineage was known for producing many offspring. A rarity these vorns among the inbred royalty and increasing his price… for Sentinel. The only value he had, Orion thought bitterly and resentfully, wishing for the millionth time to be just a simple workermech, one without painful obligations and responsibilities… an archivist or the like, reading ancient datapads and obscure treatises all orn long and not having to be afraid to be sold to a mech he hardly even knew._

_“Come on now, don’t dawdle!”_

_Sentinel’s large, strong servo closed on Orion’s upper arm and he started to drag the younger mech impatiently, out of his rooms where he was nearly a prisoner for vorns. Orion hardly remembered the rest of the palace beside the throne room, where he was sometimes taken to be presented to a prospective mate and angrily dragged back from when he objected and the match fell waywards yet again. Sentinel always exhorted him for being disrespectful and unappreciative for his efforts but Orion couldn’t see the point – Sentinel was always, always angry at him for some reason and he rarely ever met any other mechs, beside the few servants entering his quarters._


	2. Time

“Are you all right, Orion?”

For a klik, the young mech was not sure whether the question was real or just another memory. Then he startled out of his thoughts and recognized the plain, dark blue plating of the monk standing in front of him – one of those who kept trying to reach out for him, to involve him in their talks and make him more cheerful. He didn’t want to insult the mech but neither did he want to tell him anything that was not just his secret. 

“I am, thank you.”

He became adept at lying about his state of mind. A trait he never wanted to acquire but which he had anyway. The mask helped greatly. Behind it he could be as hopelessly depressed as he wanted to without it showing. Much.

“You don’t exactly look all right to me.”

Or maybe not. The monks were sensitive to moods and hidden emotions. 

“Just memories… nothing to be troubled about.”

“Yet you are.”

It wasn’t a question so Orion didn’t bother to deny it. Sighed again and nodded quietly to the patiently standing monk, hoping that he would go and leave him alone again. The flier might still come. Not likely this late but might.

“It is nothing that can be helped either…”

He offered this to the monk who canted his helm to the side and looked at him with those wise, deep and penetrating optics that saw through the mask, the plating, the shields Orion built around himself for so long… but he didn’t pry. They were all calm, understanding and so emphatic that Orion sometimes wished he could just rage at them to see those patient masks broken. Other times he felt shame for wanting to do so…

“Everything can be helped if one is willing to make an effort.”

Orion felt his anger rising. No matter how well-meaning the monks were, these sort of utterances always opened up the wounds in his meta and touched the raw, hurt emotions inside. They didn’t know anything, he told himself, didn’t know what it was that he carried inside. They meant everyday hurts and injuries not those kinds that never healed. The red-blue mech sighed again and took hold of his emotions. The monks meant well, he reminded himself again. 

“Perhaps.” – his tone was just a touch drier than it should have been – “But even then it takes time. A long time.”

The monk nodded his grey helm, like acknowledging his excuse and offered a small, knowing smile that said it knew exactly how much he denied the possibility of ever approaching the state of allright again and how wrong he was in thinking that. But he didn’t say anything of sorts.

“We all have time in abundance, young friend. Take yours, as much as you need.”

And he was gone, as silently as he came, leaving Orion stare after him for long breems. Time indeed… he had it now, to sit silently in his room, lately among the patient crystals when he dared to come out, for as long as he wished for, no mech urging him to do anything, not even to take part in their everyday work that kept them and him incidentally too fuelled, clean and under a roof against the acid rains. He sometimes felt guilty for that, not helping them when they harvested the myriads of tiny energon crystals, when they processed them with great effort into a clean, drinkable fuel… but for all the guilt, he couldn’t make himself join them. It was not the work, albeit he wasn’t used to physical labour, it was the company. Any mech’s company that he could not take. 

Not yet. Not for a while. Not while memories still assaulted him…

_“You will not refuse his servo.”_

_The ‘or else’ was unsaid but not unheard by Orion whose tanks trembled at the prospect and the hard, unyielding, uncaring tone of his stepsire. He nodded weakly, acknowledging the truth in his words while he was herded towards the smaller throne room, the one usually employed for lesser formal events. Sentinel held his shoulder in a steel grip, like he was afraid that Orion would escape if let to walk alone. As well as he had tried that. Twice. With increasingly serious consequences that led him to the here and now, walking towards his future bondmate awaiting in the audience chambers._

_“You will not let him see that you are unwilling. Not with words, not with gestures and certainly not with insults.”_

_Oh yes. He’d scared away some mechs with his glossa alone. Well, Orion didn’t think it was any fault of his own that some mechs couldn’t take a few barbed verbal arrows. He’d’ve never thought there were royals so sensitive… or so stupid, as to be unable to answer a carefully packaged insult. But he knew that he was on his last chance before Sentinel lost his temper and made god on his more serious threats, so he nodded again and stayed silent._

_“You will act like a true royal instead of an insolent brat you often are. You will be bound by the contract if he chooses you, so don’t expect to get away with anything disrespectful or inimical.”_

_“Yes, Sire.”_

_Sentinel scowled at him and his servo tightened on the shoulder plating until it nearly hurt, but Orion refused to show the pain. The larger mech huffed unimpressed and dragged him on, towards his doom. No, it was his bondmate, Orion reminded himself. He might be normal, or even likeable. Unlikely, as Sentinel choose him and he choose the others too, like that brute of a tank from Tarn or the slimy merchant king from Helion, Swindle; but a mech can always hope._

_“And make no mistake, brat, I will be glad to get rid of you finally… so don’t hope to escape back with tears in your optics and be accepted back. If you try to do so, you’ll be shipped to Kaon in irons or in a cage.”_

_He would do that, Orion knew. Sentinel was ruthless with those who dared to refuse or disobey him and Orion has done both already – on top of being an unwanted reminder of Sentinel’s predecessor, Orion’s true Sire… no, he culled that thought before it could overwhelm him with sadness. Thinking of Ultra Magnus has still upset Orion greatly, who lost his sire while barely more than a sparkling. He had so few memories of the great mech, Sentinel’s elder brother… but he remembered how different they were in nature._


	3. Dance

Something, a tiny, barely perceivable sound brought Orion out of his musings. Was the crystal broken perhaps, the chime off? But no, it gave just as clear a sound as ever when he listened for the disturbance. It too a few kliks before he realized that it was the very sound he was waiting for and the blue helm snapped up to eagerly sweep the darkening skies with bright optics. Shifting on the bench to have a clear view of the sky he turned and sought the small figure approaching.

There it was! The speck barely visible as something real as opposed to a wisp of smoke, but growing steadily above Orion’s eager optics that followed its path. From a tiny speck it became a larger blot, then it grew appendages, acquired a pyramidal shape, and amidst the growling thrusters it swept lower and became identifiable as one of the rare fliers in these parts of Cybertron. It was still small, the colours only visible because they were as bright as Orion’s own, but his optics drank in every line of it with a yearning nearly palpable on the lines of his flared plating.

The flier elegantly swooped low and climbed high with a roar of the thrusters, rolled and twisted like the laws of physic held no bounds for him and made more manoeuvres than Orion, a true grounder had words for, obviously enjoying its flight in the freedom of the air, the vast emptiness of the skies over a place where no fliers lived or moved. Late as it was, he had some lights on now, visible in the twilight darkness, twinkling softly over the helm of the staring mech among the crystals of the garden, mesmerized by the sight of him.

Orion stared until his optic shutters blinked automatically to reset for the lowering light levels and the flier was barely more than a vague shape with blinking lights and a loud roar of engines. He didn’t want to miss it for a single nanoklik, after waiting so long and nearly giving up hope that he’d come. He didn’t come every orn, in fact barely once or twice in a decaorn; obviously a busy mech who could rarely indulge in a pure joyflight over the empty prairie of the lowlands. 

But Orion envied him none the less, for his freedom in the air, for being so free as no grounder could ever be, beating gravity itself, leaving the bondages of the ground as well as its mechs and able to float above them, above life, pain, hurt, duties and obligations… he supposed that the mech must have his problems too, but while flying, he looked so free that Orion couldn’t help but envy him for it with all the remaining fire in his spark. 

He didn’t know who the mech was. Never dared to find out his designation, his home city or his affiliations. Not after remembering how his bondmate punished him for a single appreciative compliment to a nameless mech during a rare party he was allowed to attend to. Orion trembled in remembered hurt and shuttered his optics for a klik, missing the flier as he passed overhead. A tightening, nervous fear awoke in his tank and he hurriedly looked around to check if someone was not spying on him from among the crystals, paranoia rising its ugly helm despite knowing that the monastery would let no strangers on the grounds for any reason and they owed no loyalty to the lord of Kaon here in Helix. 

The noise of the flight engines was fading into the distance when he dared to look up again to catch a last glance of the colourful flier once more. He always came from the South and disappeared to the East, following a path that Orion knew not the beginning nor the end, only the beautiful dance in the sky in between that looked like it was for him alone – impossible as it was. He didn’t expect to know more about him than being a small measure of freedom and happiness in the sky he could secretly envy from the ground, bound as he was by gravity, law and contract. 

The glorious flier high above him would never know the bot who was watching him from the ground. The crystals hid him well and he didn’t think the flier even spared a glance to the ground beneath him and he would spare him even less attention had he known him. He knew very little about the lords of the skies, but he knew this much – they considered grounders as lesser beings, beneath their notice. But Orion was used to that, he was held in disdain and contempt for as far as he remembered…

_Upon entering the throne room, Orion’s nervous optics tried to find the mech he was being offered to, among the small crowd of courtiers and his half-brothers. None of them deemed him to be worthy of a greeting, their disdaining optics slid over his shining, glittering frame like he wasn’t even there and they continued with their chatter. He was nothing in their optics, his worth in the court nonexistent. Orion held no love for them either. For all that they shared a carrier, they were as much strangers for him as the rest of the room. Maybe more, since he had, for a while, a long time ago, tried to turn for them for some help and was refused resolutely and insultingly._

_A large mech drew his nervous optics to himself, pewter grey with some crimson splashes, armour looking strange, foreign with its barbaric, pointed plates. A warrior for sure, Orion pondered, his weapons are barely even hidden in his armour. Not bad looking, but the movements were all aggressive and forceful, the red optics flashing dangerously at every mech who approached him. And many did, deferential and polite even in the light of his aggressiveness, so he must be an important one._

_Orion suddenly stopped moving and the servo still grabbing his shoulder yanked him forward._

_“What are you doing?!?” – the angry snarl hissed into his audials – “Start moving now!”_

_Could he be the one? Orion’s apprehensive optics swept over the throne room’s occupants. Nope, no other foreigners in there, except the grey mech’s entourage with similar-looking flared, pointy armours, plenty of barely hidden weapons and drab, martial colours. His pedes moved like on automatic, following his stepsire alone now, that he let go of his plating. Orion put a polite interest into his optics, felt grateful for the mask and nodded as he passed the grey mech, trying to look and act interested and desirable as he was ordered._

_As he stood by Sentinel’s throne and tuned out the opening speeches and formal rubbish, he saw the large mech come closer and the red optics row over his frame from top to bottom with an intensity that made his innards tremble and his faceplates flame. It wasn’t a nice stare. It was measuring him up completely, without a shred of any softer emotions. In a haze he heard the mech’s designation, which was Megatronus and his kingdom that was called Kaon. He remembered it from his studies and knew that it was a rugged, harsh region with mostly miners and warriors inhabiting it._

_He was offered worse, Orion thought, at least he is good-looking once he got past the alien strangeness. The helm would take a lot to get used to, the pointy armour will be strange from… up close, but the faceplates were noble and chiselled and the scarred lipplates held a strange allure for the young Iaconian. If he ever stopped sneering, Orion would even call him handsome. Suddenly he discovered that he could say yes to this mech’s offer even without Sentinel’s threat over his helm._

_He felt the warning glance from Sentinel as he heard the question in a daze. He heard his own voice, strange, echoing in his helm like it was somemech else speaking, as it said a soft, quiet yes and expressed his hope of a loving union between them and all the rubbish Sentinel demanded him to say. He even felt a glimmer of hope for it to come true. But the red glance opposite to him was unimpressed, the sensuous lipplates still drawn to an ugly sneer and Orion’s barely awakening, little hope started to slowly crumble._

_Then the red stare turned away from him, dismissing him as unimportant and Orion heard the two hard voices start to bargain for his servo, without either of them asking him or his wishes. Offers were made and concessions, treaties to be signed about military protection and mining rights, exchanges and cooperation… nothing personal, nothing he was asked about, nothing that even concerned him. After a while he tuned them out just as much as they did with him, resigning himself to an unhappy, forced bonding. He should have known better than hope anything from a mech of Sentinel’s choosing._


	4. Guilt

But it turned out even worse than his worst nightmares, Orion thought as he stared after the disappearing flier’s dissipating contrail. Much, much worse. But he got out of it, well, sort of, he pondered, as the closed bond twanged painfully in his spark. He cannot be free of the bond ever again, but at least he got away from the more… physical aspects of being Megatronus’s mate. The red-blue frame shook and huddled into itself again in remembered hurt, the joy of seeing the flier forgotten again. 

Orion fought the sobs that wanted to escape and hurriedly retreated into his small room. In this mood, he couldn’t even take the most well-meaning monk. Nestling himself into a comfortable lounger the young mech tried very hard to dispel the memories that threatened to swallow him. But he couldn’t hide the distress from one person, much as he tried to. As he was unable to calm his turbulent spark, the little monitoring device picked up the abnormal activity and when it didn’t abate, signalled to the medic. 

The door hardly had enough time to slide away from the incoming medic’s white frame. Ratchet has always stormed through doors like they weren’t there, when he had a patient to tend to and the entrances seemed to fear his ire and comply. But Orion was too much lost in the waking memories to notice him or try to playfully banter with the medic for his haste. The red-blue frame huddled into a ball in the recliner, his plating rattled as he shook in fear and hurt, his blue optics were nearly whitened out. Sobs and pleas fell from a shaking vocalizer, the sounds, Ratchet knew were intended for somemech else, for the one who had never cared about them. 

He stabbed a sedative into the first energon line he could find and held the trembling frame until it settled down and slowly slumped into the chair offline. There was no use to try and snap him out of such a strong panic attack, it never worked before, the attempts just made it longer and more draining afterwards on both of them. Knocking Orion offline was not a solution, Ratchet knew, as he started to curse Megatronus in a low voice now that the young mech couldn’t hear the fury in his tone. It solved the immediate problem, but it has done nothing to heal Orion from his mental wounds that hasn’t scabbed over as fast as physical wounds. He had no mental welder to fix those, no tools that could make a mech recover from rape and brutal punishments over a longer period than Ratchet dared to contemplate. 

Orion was barely an adult when he was given… well, sold really to Megatronus as bondmate, a consort to produce royal heir for Kaon. Now, well in his two-hundredth vorn, he suffered longer than his younglinghood lasted and that wasn’t the joyous affair either with the fragging afthole, Sentinel for a stepsire. Ratchet knew Megatronus only from Orion’s experiences, but he knew the Iaconian king’s cold-sparked cruelty very well. The two were a match really, in his opinion. 

He waited patiently for the joor it took the sedative to slowly wear off, checking absentmindedly Orion’s physical state in the meanwhile. Those wounds at least healed and his self-repair nanites slowly made even the welding scars disappear, making him just as beautiful as he used to be when young. Ratchet could understand why Megatronus choose him from the many available princes among the kingdoms. All the advantages that a pact with Iacon meant aside, Orion was by far the best-looking mech among them and from a proven, fertile royal line too.

What the medic could never understand was the coldness, in time the outright fury that Megatronus showed towards his bondmate. So far as he knew the events there was no reason for the Kaon king to hate his mate so much, not in the beginning anyway. Orion’s youthful reticence to bonding was barely explaining even half of it in his processor. There had to be something more that no mech told him, something that Orion probably didn’t know about.

Orion onlined groggily, realizing slowly that he had to have been drugged, which meant that his panic attack had grown so strong that it alerted Ratchet. Looking up he immediately saw the concerned blue optics of the medic over him and refrained from flinching away instinctly. He was too close but Orion learned that the white and red mech never cared about propriety when he was concerned about medical matters. 

“How do you feel?”

How indeed… Orion’s processor slowly picked up speed and started to take stock of where he was and… and how he felt. 

“Drained…” – he mumbled, vocalizer still not operating fully – “…tired. Sad. Envious”

Ratchet’s blue optics narrowed a little.

“Envious? That’s a new one. Of what?”

Orion’s fear spiked sharp, fast and high. He nearly gave away his secret! Not even the medic knew about his secret indulgence in the flier’s display and the emotions that accompanied it. He had to find a believable lie and fast.

“I… I was thinking of past and choices… others who had it differently…”

“None of what happened was your choice, Orion, even I know this much.”

“Mostly not… true. But I keep thinking that I could have made it different. Somehow.”

“How?”

Orion stared at the medic mutely for a full breem. It wasn’t what he was thinking, not really, but now that it came to his meta, he couldn’t help but entertain the idea.

“Ratchet… maybe I could have been a better mate. A better carrier…”

His voice muffled as emotions constricted his vocalizer. The memories came inevitably…

_Orion screamed his voice hoarse before his vocalizer shorted out completely. The pain was incredible, its burning agony enveloped his spark and constricted it with a vice-like grip until he felt like dying every nanoklik. The pain came in waves, the pressure letting up and coming back to choke him again. He dimly felt the strong grip on his flailing arms that held him to the berth and he heard the hurried shouts like they were hics away. The pressure inside grew until he felt like exploding._

_Then something tore and slick, warm energon oozed out from inside, dripping through the armour gaps to stain the berth. His spark gave a final, wild flare and an emergency sequence came online. Something burning and scouring tore away from his spark and gone down into the reproduction chamber; and his abdominal plates forced themselves apart, creaking, squeaking in an abnormal sequence. It was emergence, but far from a normal, orderly one. It was the fast and dangerous way of a mature frame getting rid of a dying protoform before its incomplete and jumbled programming and malformed, disorganized parts would cause dangerous harm to the carrier._

_The plates creaked and grated on each other and Orion screamed again as they split apart to expel a jumble of bent plates and crooked wires that hardly resembled a protoform even an early one. It was offline already, no whirr from its mismatched and broken systems came on, the barely formed processor was silent and the whole, dreadful contraption was clearly unable to support the newspark whose dimly flickering blue light was dying before any mech could even think of an incubator or stasis chamber for it._

_Orion wouldn’t believe it, but the pain was even worse now that the malformed, stillborn protoform was outside. His own insides were torn badly in the emergency sequence, just like his armour covering them – and his spark felt every flicker of the newspark, every twitch, every throb as it was fighting to survive, like it was stabbing its carrier… he never wanted the sparkling to die, never wished it on even Megatronus’s offspring, but he knew that Hook was worried about it, that it didn’t develop normally, from the very beginning, that Megatronus blamed him for it… and now the dying newspark took its revenge on him even with its last klik of life._

_With a final, burning stab in his spark he screamed once more and felt the connection between their sparks twang and snap. Orion fell back to the berth with a thud, the arms that had restrained him so far have gone to cradle the little, malformed protoform instead. It was completely dark now, even the flickering light was gone. Megatronus bellowed his hurt anger into the sudden silence of the room and Orion’s tank constricted in fear even barely half online as he was from his own pain._

_Hook arrived just then to the room and Megatronus greeted the late medic with a murderous hit to the faceplates – it was an emergency that no mech could foresee, but the half-crazed king was not interested in excuses. His son, his heir was deactivated, hasn’t even got a chance to fight for its existence, doomed to fail by jumbled programming that led to his systems develop badly, unable to function, until its carrier’s frame expelled it for its own survival._

_And he wanted to know why._


	5. Shock

“Don’t you dare to think that!” – Ratchet’s voice was furious – “It wasn’t your fault!”

“Maybe… but maybe not. It was me who carried them and my programming that made them turn out… like that…”

Orion shuddered at the remembered form of the stillborn, malformed creations from his own frame as they emerged, amidst pain and energon. The screams and shouts, the hurried actions to save them, the deadly silences when the sparkling bond snapped; then the accusations and the blaming, the furious looks from Megatronus, promising Pit. The beatings afterwards, like those emergences weren’t enough punishments in themselves. 

“Ratchet… I killed them! Me!”

“Orion, there is nothing wrong with your carrier programming. I checked it dozens of times and it is working perfectly.”

“But even Hook said that there must be something wrong with me.”

“Hook is a medical technician, not a full medic! He admitted not having the necessary training for carrying and emergence. AND he is in Megatronus’s employ, his subject and told you what the king wanted to hear. Disregard him completely, Orion, he lied!”

“But why then… all those little newsparks, all those poor, malformed protoforms… why, Ratchet?”

Orion huddled into a ball, clicking like a sparkling, close to sobs again. Loosing even just one newspark was a traumatic experience and he’d gone through the gruesome act five times in the past vorns. Not including the ones snuffing out barely after sparking. Ratchet put a servo on one red shoulder and held it in support. 

“Orion… you know why. Megatronus blamed you, but it was his own treatment that caused the malfunctions and the abortions.”

“But he… he was always… mostly careful after I got sparked.”

Ratchet snarled, anger boiling high in him. That answer was telling in itself. 

“Careful for him still meant rape and mental abuse. It is NOT normal for bondmates to force interface and play sick mind-games with a carrier! It is NOT normal to cause even the slightest of injuries on a carrier!”

Orion trembled, his frame and processor remembering too. But he knew nothing else but Megatronus’s handling of him, he didn’t know what was normal or acceptable. He grew up amidst his half-brothers’ disdain and insults and Sentinel degrading him at any opportunity and then he was transferred to Megatronus with a threat to obey him in everything and act like a willing mate. It was even included in a contract…

_“Why? Why do you hurt me so?” – Orion sobbed as Megatronus simply picked him up and threw him into a lounger and settled over him. He was held down by the much stronger mech, unable to do much but squirm as the servos dented his armour. He was already through the usual, forced, painful interface but Megatronus seemed to be unsatisfied still. A slap knocked his helm aside and a growl told him that the king did not appreciate his question. His lipplates split and Orion tasted his own energon… but the droplet didn’t have time to fall, as it was licked up by Megatronus’s hot glossa._

_The grey helm leaned over him and his helm was forced up, his mouth consumed in a harsh, demanding kiss. Sharp fangs tore his lipplates even further and the aggressive glossa explored his mouth cavity. The weight of the large, heavy mech pressed him deep into the soft mesh cushions. The pressure on him grew until Orion’s lighter armour creaked ominously and the young mech tried – futilely – to protect his growing middle, where their sparkling’s protoform was being assembled._

_“Mmmphhh…!”_

_He tried to communicate to Megatronus somehow that he was being crushed and the sparkling was in danger too – but to no avail. Megatronus continued to ravish him fully, mouth and servos roughly exploring every inch of his frame. But it failed to arouse Orion, like it always did, because the pain, the threat and the ever-present fear were far stronger than anything his abused sensors could convey to his processor. The sparkling’s instinctive fear and its acute perception of being threatened just added to his own discomfort._

_Megatronus didn’t appreciate that his efforts were useless, his mate yet again unaroused and unresponsive. He lifted off of him slightly, snarling and growling and only stopped when Orion could finally groan out that he was crushing the sparkling. That sobered him up a bit and he stood fast, pulling the mostly limp Orion with him by the arms._

_“Why are you always hurting me…?”_

_The grey mech’s snarl was a bit forced for once. He simply forgot about the sparkling and was looking forward to a good frag, even magnanimously including Orion in his plans._

_“It is nothing you don’t deserve.”_

_He finally threw at Orion the disdaining answer._

_“Why? Have I ever given you a reason?”_

_Orion was shouting and for once he didn’t care about the anger he enticed. He thought he’d done everything to the letter that Sentinel made him promise, but Megatronus still handled him like an unwanted but dangerous prisoner in the palace._

_“Your sire told me all about you. Don’t bother to lie.”_

_The casual, sneered answer froze the energon in Orion’s lines. What could Sentinel tell Megatronus that incurred such cruelty? What lies had he been spinning, how had he twisted facts so Megatronus would be so harsh and distrusting of him?_

_“You won’t get any chances to escape, disobey or deceive me. I’m preventing you from embarrassing me and Kaon the same way you did with your Sire.”_

_“What?!? You mean Sentinel? He had to be lying! I never…”_

_“Spare me the lies. You aren’t trusted or believed and it won’t change.”_

_“B-but… Megatronus… please give me a chance! I’m not like that! Let me prove it!”_

_“No. I don’t take such chances. You don’t deserve it. You are my bondmate, but that’s all you will ever get. Carry my heirs and I will see that they are cared for. As for you… you can read this.”_

_A datapad was thrown to Orion’s lap. He lifted it with trembling servos, optics widening as he read the damning, harsh, impersonal sentences, as he made sense of the legal text that must have been the one he and Sentinel agreed to. According to it, he had no rank, no title, no property, no rights. Duties and obligations were enumerated and nearly obscenely detailed with plenty of threats and consequences should he not comply, giving Megatronus a completely free servo in discipline and punishments. When Orion lifted his helm at last, his optics were dead and his voice a mere whisper._

_“It seems I am not even your bondmate… I am your slave.”_

_Megatronus nodded, every flared plate of his frame exuding dominance and unyielding determination._

_“I’m glad that we understand each other.”_

_He moved close again, the conversation obviously not taking the edge of his arousal._

_“And you will not deny me.”_

_He picked up Orion and turned him around, positioning him face-down in the lounge chair so his middle would be propped up by the cushions and his servo roughly squeezed the red-blue mech’s panel in a silent demand to open. Orion, still in a shock from reading the contract, complied – what was one more forced, dry, painful interface compared to his overall situation? Nothing really. At least he cared about the sparkling._

_When he remembered it._


	6. Truth

Truth

“Orion, believe me, what that monster did to you was not normal, not acceptable!”

Ratchet knew that it might take vorns before Orion even started to believe him. Megatronus over the long vorns while he had his mate in his clutches, conditioned him that he was to submit, to obey and take whatever Megatronus saw fit to give him – be it a forced interface, public humiliation or even outright beatings. Orion simply had no way out of his situation, no way to escape – even if he had an opportunity, he would be a hunted mech all over Cybertron. Together with the aborted sparklings that were too blamed on him, the young mech was barely sane when Ratchet first saw him. 

He was called in as a last resort, a medic famous for his expertise in carrying mechs and their problems. He was the first of such experts who had the ball bearings to speak up and tell the king outright that it was his treatment that caused the newsparks to form abnormally and abort and not his mate’s programming. He was the one who could convince Megatronus that his threats would never change Orion, and only some time away from him could heal him of the physical and mental wounds he bore. The monastery in Helix was the only place he agreed to – Helix being completely encircled with Kaon, while theoretically independent and the monks sworn celibacy and unlikely to approach and entice his mate that way. 

“He had every right to, Ratchet…”

“Nothing gives that kind of right to any mech! Nothing! It was deeply wrong that blasted contract they signed.”

“I agreed to it.”

Orion answered quietly, although he knew exactly what kind of agreement that was. 

“You were forced to!”

“Royal princes aren’t free to choose what they want to. I’ve always knew this would come one orn.”

“Even so, rape and abuse is not acceptable, whatever contract you sign under whatever circumstances!”

“I was a bad consort…” – Orion answered dreamily, with the cadence of a well-rehearsed answer – “…a misbehaving stepson, a jealous stepbrother and a poor bondmate. I was being punished for those and they were within their rights to do so...”

“No! No, no, no! That is the rubbish Sentinel and Megatronus stuffed into your processor, but is it the truth? How ‘bad’ were you? What ‘wrong’ or Primus forbid ‘sinful’ things did you do?”

“I disobeyed Sentinel many times…”

“As well you should have. He was – is – a pompous aft.”

“He was my stepsire. I should have been an obedient son. But I wasn’t.”

“Primus on a pogo stick! You were a youngling! Younglings all do things their sires don’t want them to! And nothing I heard or you told me was any sort of a serious infraction. Just… things younglings do!”

“But I wasn’t just a youngling. I was also a prince.”

“Fragitall, Orion, your brothers behaved the same way or even worse – only Sentinel never punished Hot Rod for any kind of an idiocy he put his helm to. Only you. Because you weren’t his.”

Orion sat up straighter, optics coming alive for a klik.

“Don’t say that about Hot Rod. He was the best of the bunch to me. Yes, he had outrageous ideas, but he was very young.”

“Just like you… Orion… I’m not wishing anything bad on any of your stepbrothers, but you shouldn’t have been punished for what they too did. Certainly not to the extent you’ve been. It was simply wrong.”

Orion bowed his helm, sighing under the mask. Deep down he wanted to believe the medic, wanted to believe that he wasn’t a bad mech by nature who needed a stern servo to keep in check and frequent punishments to correct his behaviour. That it was normal not to be beaten by his bondmate, that he could live here in the monastery without fearing to go back or Megatronus coming after him. But he couldn’t be sure. It was all he’s ever got told, all he had to go by. Try as he might, the young mech just couldn’t be sure what was true of all the things he was told, taught, trained and forced to believe. So he avoided the issue when it became too complicated.

“I’m all right now, Ratchet, I won’t keep you from your patients.”

It was still unbelievable to him that the famous medic simply gave up his practice in Iacon to tend him, to come with him to the monastery, where he opened a small clinic for those who couldn’t afford the big hospitals in the cities. 

“You are my patient too.” – the gruff voice held affection, another thing Orion feared, because he never felt it towards himself from any other mech – “And you will remain so for some time yet.”

“My wounds are healed now.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. That last sparkling nearly reorganized your innards on its way out and it takes time to recover from something like that.”

Ratchet paused on his way out grimacing as he remembered.

“Not to mention what you never told me about and I had to discover accidentally...”

He regretted mentioning it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, seeing Orion tremble in a sudden fright and uneasy memories…

_“Do you still feel pain?” – Ratchet frowned at the young royal consort, lying on the plush, elaborate berth and wincing occasionally, even though he tried to hide the movements. True, the premature birth tore his innards apart and left his plating jumbled, but as far as the medic knew those injuries were all on their way to healing, the young mech’s own repair nanites were swarming over the fresh welds he had made just a breem ago. They should not be painful now if he had done his job well and Ratchet knew that he did._

_“A little.” – the voice was barely more than a whisper and the medic wondered about that too._

_“Where exactly?” – his scanner was out again, sweeping over the red abdominal plates, but nothing popped up on the screen that he didn’t expect._

_Orion briefly glanced to the side fearfully and didn’t answer. Ratchet frowned again, looking straight the glowering king by the other side of the berth who hovered over them like a huge and ominous shadow._

_“I need honest answers if I am to fulfill my function.” – he reminded the large grey mech – “I am bound by my oath never to reveal anything I discover during my practice, but I need all relevant facts to know what to heal.”_

_Megatronus growled angrily as he started to speak but by the time the medic finished, he shrugged and waved at his cowering mate permissively. Ratchet wondered about that too, the apparent lack of the usual bondmate connection, through their bonded sparks. It seemed not to be utilized at all for some reason. Then Megatronus stepped back a single step and Orion seemed to almost relax at the distance. He still whispered though, hardly looking at the medic whom he was answering to._

_“Lower.” – he shyly indicated his interface panel and Ratchet thought that he understood the reticence and the angry jealousy from the king._

_“I am a medic.” – he assured them both even as he wondered the source of pain in that particular place. It was, after all in no way involved in carrying or emergence. – “Not only I am bound by the vow of silence, but I do see all manners of injuries and I repair them without judgement.”_

_Megatronus growled deep and his faceplates twisted into an ugly expression, bordering on threatening before he snorted suddenly, nodded harshly and then left the room altogether. Orion seemed to want to hide underneath the berth cover and trembled lightly._

_Ratchet lifted a brow plate but the atmosphere in the room felt like warming by several degrees after the menacing frame of the warlord left it, so he didn’t complain. It also made Orion a bit less fearful which shocked the experienced medic. Leaning emotionally on a bondmate after such a traumatic experience was natural, more than that, it was normal and expected. The apparent lack of it that Ratchet hesitated to term as outright fear from the royal consort toward his dominant mate was definitely not._

_But he had a symptom to examine and the medic put aside the mystery for the problem at servo and swung the scanner lower, sweeping it slowly over the interface panel. What the small screen told him left the veteran medic speechless and shocked and suddenly doubting the so far perfect working of his equipment. But a restart and even the change of scanner produced the same results and he stared incredulously at the masked face of the young consort which, if he judged it right was burning with shame._

_For the first time in his long function, Ratchet didn’t know what to say. He had to check it with his own optics to believe what the scanner told him, but seeing his patient’s mental state it was harder than ever to ask him to open that panel. He even considered putting the mech offline for the examination, if not for the necessary but uncomfortable questions that he would be forced to ask._

_“Can you open the panel?” – he pitched his tone to be gentler and lower in volume, trying to be as reassuring as he could._

_Orion didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him, but the panel slid aside, revealing his intimate parts. It wasn’t as bad as the scanner said._

_It was worse._


	7. Friendship

Orion stood straight after they both refuelled in the monastery’s common room, still not talking much to Ratchet or the other mechs around above the bare necessities. They let him be, the monks plenty patient with a mech needing time to regain a measure of trust in anyone else again. 

“I’ll be in the garden.”

“Do you need anything? Company perhaps? Or you’d rather be alone?” – Ratchet was far less inclined to patience than the monks. It frustrated him to no end to be unable to help Orion to heal faster.

“No. Thank you, but… no.”

The red-blue mech made his way to his favourite bench, his steps softly clattering on the pavement in the calm quiet of the gardens. The usual, soft chimes of the crystals were nearly silent now, the air calm before sunrise and no monk moved about the garden at this time of the orn. Orion loved the peaceful silence that usually lulled him into a pleasant half-recharge, devoid of dreams, fears or memories. 

The flier never came so early, so Orion wasn’t searching the multicoloured sky above him for the tiny figure. He was, as the monks called it half-jokingly, watching the crystals grow, their synonym for pleasant, lazy idleness, near to recharge they’ve so rarely engaged in. A small, bright green mechainsect climbed the slender growth in front of him, the purple of the crystal clashing horribly with the metallic green of the small carapace. Orion followed its laborious way up, half curious why it would undertake such an arduous effort when it could clearly fly to its goal in nanokliks, half too lazy to think up the answer.

But he never got the reason as a faint buzz that sounded like the upscaled version of the small insect in flight drew his attention. It came from above and Orion looked up, a quiet happiness blossoming in his spark at the unexpected sight. The colourful flier was approaching, already gliding lower to begin his usual dance above the only one and well-hidden observer. Orion drank in his effortless movements with wide optics, the daring maneuvers and the beautiful figures he drew to the sky with his contrails. It was almost like he performed for the audience, although Orion knew that he was hidden enough among the crystals as to not be seen. 

But at the end of the performance the flier didn’t leave towards his usual target, instead he flew towards the garden like he never did before. Orion swiftly shifted even deeper among the crystals, but as the jet landed and transformed into a slim, tricoloured frame with the beautiful white wings spreading wide behind him, he couldn’t stand not to have a peek. The proud figure came closer to his hiding place and Orion fought down the urge to escape. He couldn’t know about him being there, he must have come for the garden itself! He moved deeper quietly, keeping the slender frame in sight but hiding from it at the same time.

“Come out now! You’ve been watching me for decaorns, don’t try to act like you’re not interested!”

The voice caught Orion by surprise, the words even more so and he jerked back in a sudden fright. Apparently he wasn’t as hidden as he’d thought… suddenly it became clear and Orion wanted to bash his helm into something solid for being so stupid. Of course… the jet saw him from above, a direction he, a grounder never really thought about. The authoritative voice sounded again, impatient at being made to wait.

“Come on now!”

Should he go and meet him? Common sense told Orion that he most definitely should not, that it was dangerous for him to meet a stranger mech alone, that it will all end badly… but a strange defiance also awakened in his spark, one that the medic prodded to life, one that whispered to him that he was doing nothing wrong, that to just talk to a mech was not a sin, not betraying his bondmate… Orion wringed his servos while the warring emotions battled it out in his meta, but in the end, hesitantly, with lurching steps, he slowly moved out from the cover of the crystals. The strengthening chimes sounded like encouraging his steps and by the time he came to face the flier he was more eager than frightened.

Holding onto a small pillar for support he came faceplates to faceplates with the impatient and slightly scowling visage of the flier. For a nanoklik it reminded him of Megatronus’s in its proud and authoritative air and he nearly drew back before the other’s face morphed into a condescending smile. It strangely become of him, Orion thought, like a being of his standing wore it naturally on the exotic, dark grey face, framed with the vents on both sides. The burning red optics appeared to see through him in their intensity and keenness.

“At last, little monk… I must admit that I rarely have such a devoted audience watching me every orn. I am impressed.”

“Ohhh… umm… I l-love the way you f-fly…” – Orion cursed himself. He never stammered, so why now? He tried to collect himself with an effort. – “But I am not a monk.”

“Really? But you must live here.”

The tricoloured flier visibly preened at the praise, apparently conceited enough not to care who saw it. Orion didn’t know whether all fliers were vain or just this one, but he found it strangely alluring. In Kaon, he rarely met a mech who gave a slag to their appearance beyond basic cleanliness. Suddenly his faded, scratched colours that could really use a retouch felt shoddy and he felt self-conscious in the light of the perfectly waxed, shimmering armour of the other.

“N-no… not really. Just… staying here… for awhile.”

“Why would a young, handsome mech like you stay in a monastery?”

Orion’s vents hitched at the adjective and he ducked his helm shyly. Then he caught on the question and didn’t know what to say. Who was this flier anyway? Could he tell him anything or try to lie? Orion knew that he lied very badly, the few times he tried to, mechs always caught him at it, so he avoided it entirely if he could.

“I… I’d rather not say… what about you? I’ve never seen another flier above these plains.”

The flier drew his brow plates together at the evasive answer and pursed thin lips together. He was clearly dissatisfied and Orion felt the first pangs of the usual fear that accompanied such displays. 

“I am Starscream.” – he told it in a way obviously expecting the designation to be recognized and be an explanation in itself. – “I fly wherever I want to.”

Orion desperately tried to remember such an unusual designation. It was familiar, like he should know it from his studies, but it didn’t want to come to the forefront of his processor. He must be from Vos, that was sure, and an important figure if he had learned his name… yes! There it was.

“Ohh… you are the Winglord?!”

Starscream preened again, his mood changing fast at Orion’s admiring, awed tone that he obviously liked. He nodded, confirming Orion’s statement. 

“And you, little mech… who are you?”

“I am Orion. I stay here to… to heal.”

He felt the keen red gaze slide down his frame and blushed again. 

“I have… lost a sparkling.” – his voice trembled and his vocalizer tightened suddenly. But Starscream seemed to understand.

“I see…” – even his voice turned less shrill and somewhat more sympathetic – “My condolences to you and… your bondmate?”

He sounded somewhat displeased that the red-blue mech had a bondmate and Orion ducked his helm almost apologetically.

“Is he also staying here?” – a natural supposition, as a real mate would be there to heal as well or support his partner in his recovery.

“N-no. He is an… important mech, he can’t leave his… duties.”

“Well… strange, but if you say so…”

Starscream frowned at the hesitant, not quite truthful-sounding answer. Orion knew that he shouldn’t tell the true details to another kingdom’s Lord, it would go beyond trust and into the realm of politics. Vos, the Seeker kingdom, Starscream’s land was not enemy of Kaon, but not an ally either. But he was strangely drawn to the beautiful flier and didn’t want him to leave. Collecting his wits so he wouldn’t look like a dunce Orion straightened up to his full height – not much compared to even Starscream who was smaller than Megatronus, but still – and steadied his voice.

“I am the bondmate of Lord Megatronus. He couldn’t accompany me here…” – he suppressed the shudder at the thought – “…but I am staying at the monastery for a few groons until I am ready to return to the Palace.” 

A red flash of surprise glinted in the flier’s optics and his whole demeanor changed slightly. The white wings hitched up a notch and his so far casual pose turned more formal, more respectful. As well as it should be, Orion supposed, instead of two stranger mechs’ accidental meeting, they were now high-ranking Nobles from different city-states. Unfortunately, his processor added a sad, little afterthought, he’d’ve preferred them to be relative nomechs with no obligations and formality between them. But that option, he guessed, was moot at the moment he emerged as a prince all those vorns ago…

“I have not thought to find a fellow royalty in this remote place.” – Starscream offered somewhat more stiffly than his previous, casual sentences. – “… although, come to think of it, I haven’t seen Megatronus’s consort during the last few rounds of negotiations.”

Orion’s lipplates twitched in annoyance. He had never been allowed to take part in any real negotiations, Megatronus never considered him worthy enough for such events, so the flier’s statement was, while formally correct, overly glossing over facts. Slag, he didn’t even know there were negotiations with Vos and its Winglord!

“My bondmate has not required my presence at those events.”

Starscream looked at him sharply, obviously catching the point – and pursed his lipplates in disapproval.

“Health is first and foremost, I’m sure, and if you were carrying… But he might have made a mistake in that. You appear… capable to me.”

“My abilities have never been called to use.” – a short sentence, but saying much among royals who learned reading hidden meanings from early younglinghood.

“That is a real shame.” – Starscream’s look was bordering on angry, but Orion felt that it wasn’t directed at him – “We might have achieved far more if your calm were there to temper our clashing differences. Megatronus, that is, Lord Megatronus can be hard to convince and I’m not known for much patience.”

“I cannot contest my bondmate in a decision like that.” – Orion knew that his voice was bitter, more so than it should be, but he couldn’t make himself care. – “But enough of the negotiations I’m not supposed to even know about. What about yourself, Lord Starscream? Why are you flying over these empty lands with no interests around?”

“I suppose they are uninteresting for a grounder. But the region has such interesting updrafts and eddies that make it interesting to fly in. I often come here to practice or just enjoy my time away from duties… or my Trine.”

The last word was accompanied by a small, annoyed-indulging smile that made Orion interested.

“Trine?” – then he suddenly remembered that Seekers usually flew in trines and the other meant his… squadron? – “Ohh… you mean the other Seekers you fly with?”

“Yes. Although Trine is more than just flying. Mine are the best… of course after me, but they are annoying sometimes. Especially Skywarp.”

At Orion’s enquiringly lifted brow, he elaborated, the small, exasperated smile still on his lipplates.

“He is a prankster and doesn’t care about decorum, formalities or sometimes even basic decency. Embarrassed me a few times in front of other dignitaries so he is now forbidden from formal events. Not that bans or prohibitions have ever stopped a warper…”

“Ohh…” – that sounded interesting but in a way frightening too. Was this flier a strict mate like Megatronus, punishing his partner the same ways? Were they even mates, all three of them, or just flying partners? Starscream alluded that they were more, but as far as Orion knew, the Vosian Winglord was eligible, meaning free to bond. Maybe he didn’t understand the exact nature of their relationship…

“But you don’t look either incompetent or incorrigible like my idiot Trine-mate… so why is Megatronus hiding you from parties? I would have liked to meet you in one before.”

Orion flinched. Parties, he didn’t exactly miss, because lots of stranger mechs made him uncomfortable, but sometimes, he wished he was allowed to attend a smaller, less formal gathering. Maybe even gain a few acquaintances, perhaps even friends… but he knew those dreams to be futile. Megatronus was jealous and possessive to the extreme and furious with him even after a few words he exchanged with any mech when he could still accompany him to a party…

_“Thank you, Ambassador Prowl. I appreciated that save. Ambassador Shockvawe can be quite…”_

_“Technical?” – The stiff and prim black and white Praxian offered a tiny smile that Orion widely reciprocated._

_“That would be an accurate description. I’m sure he is frighteningly capable and intelligent but I’m afraid I can’t follow his theories.”_

_The doorwings gave an amused twitch._

_“Nor can I, Lord Orion. I think Perceptor will enjoy his expatiation far more than we do.”_

_“At least somemech will… would you like a glass of Icefire, Ambassador?”_

_Prowl looked hesitant, like he didn’t really want to drink high-grade, but didn’t want to refuse the Royal Consort either. At the end, he nodded politely and Orion waved at a passing server, who offered them a tray with the small, elaborate cubes of the fabled drink of Kaon. It was potent, distilled and purified far more than most other brands of high-grade, coming close to the even more coveted Vosian kinds. But unlike the Wind-brands, it was imported and available to any mech who could pay its exorbitant price._

_The Ambassador nodded in thanks to the server mech and lifted the small cube in a silent salute to the hosts of the party. The dark purple of the drink shone in the clear, simply cut glass of the cube, its charge almost shimmering the air above it. They clinked glasses, shared another small smile and tasted the drink. Orion, for his part never actually liked the Icefire, as he found it a bit too potent, the taste a bit too sharp, biting. But of course it wasn’t something he ever said aloud. Megatronus was inordinately proud of Kaon and everything it produced and would probably be furious with him for expressing a dislike of anything his kingdom produced. And anyway… the drink made him a bit less tense and helped to forget what would inevitably come after the party…_

_“Lord Orion?” – The Ambassador’s voice intruded to Orion’s thoughts and made him realize that he inexcusably ignored the guest for who knows how long._

_“I’m sorry! I got lost in my thoughts for a klik.”_

_Prowl nodded politely and made no mention of it any further. They talked for a few breems about various, but not loaded topics and Orion even enjoyed the Ambassador’s straight, serious but thoughtful view of things. It was delightfully different from the courtiers’ usually unctuous, smarmy behaviour that he was used to, the Praxian actually listened to him and took time to answer his questions, even though neither of them got into any serious topics. But the conversation was actually refreshing and enjoyable for Orion, at the time still new to this strange place he was summarily sent to._

_But still, he should have know better than actually dare to enjoy anything. Shortly after he warmed into the conversation, a huge and angry shadow fell onto them, as Megatronus appeared, looming ominously over his bondmate, his fury crystal clear in his field, the flare plating and his smoldering optics. Two elegant doorwings shot up, as Prowl thought it was him who provoked the king’s anger somehow, but soon it became clear that he wasn’t the target of the warlord’s ire. A large servo grabbed Orion’s arm in a denting grip and the rumbling voice of Megatronus barely contained his fury._

_“You must excuse us, Ambassador. My consort has an urgent need to be elsewhere.”_

_Orion’s energon nearly froze in his lines and his knee joints weakened so that it was mostly Megatronus’s grip keeping him upright. What did he do wrong now, his fearful processor wondered, was the Praxian somehow off limits or his city-state not friendly enough even for just some small talks? He was dragged through the throng, Megatronus barely masking his anger, but the scores of mechs still parted ahead of them, giving a respectful way to the king and his consort._

_As soon as they reached the first private room though the mask of enforced formality slipped from the grey mech’s visage and Orion was nearly thrown into the small room, followed by an angry roar. He scrambled to stay upright, grabbing at a small wall-fixture, still completely clueless as to why suddenly Megatronus was acting like a wild beast._

_“You whore!” – the roar nearly shook the walls and completely crumbled Orion’s never too strong self-confidence._

_“B-but… what do you mean?” – the smaller mech retreated another step, but Megatronus followed him and loomed over the trembling frame threateningly._

_“Your Sire was right! You’d cheat me at the first chance you get! Threw yourself on a mech you barely knew!”_

_Orion wasn’t even sure what to say to that, how to defend himself or refute the accusation._

_“But I did nothing wrong! Megatronus, please, be reasonab…”_

_“Shut up, you lying slut!” – his arm was grabbed again and the grip didn’t stay merely painful this time, it actually dented the lighter metal. The red-blue frame was shaken like he was a toy in the servos of his master and thrown onto the sofa with a force silencing him momentarily._

_“I will not be played for a fool by you!”_

_The first blow knocks Orion’s helm aside and his processor is completely locked up by it. Megatronus has been pretty brutal with him in the berth but this is the first time he actually lifted a servo at him. Nor has it stayed one hit only, as Megatronus continues to rain down blows and slaps on the cowering frame, careless of the energon that soon started to smear on his servo and Orion’s pained moans that soon turned to screams._

_“You will not get any more opportunities to cheat me! If I have to lock you into your rooms, then you will be locked in there!”_

_Orion heard the condemning sentence through a roaring haze that descended onto his meta and the terrified pounding of his fuel pump than wanted to jump out of his frame. Coolant tears mixed into the energon smattering his frame and the young mech barely even felt it when Megatronus, having spent enough of his ire to stop the beating decided to reclaim his frame right there, amidst Orion’s own mech-blood and the shredded covers for the lounger. It didn’t hurt as much as his spark anyway._


	8. Confrontation

“Hey?! Are you… what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry… what?”

“You suddenly zoned out and looked like you’re a thousand hics away.”

“Ohh… sorry.” – Orion blushed and tried to gather his wondering thoughts – “I was just… some memories came up suddenly.”

The proud flier looked at him thoughtfully, the strangeness of the situation and the circumstances obviously making him suspicious. 

“Memories… like what?”

“I… I’d rather not say.”

“As you wish. In that case I have to leave. If those memories are more important…”

Starscream moved back a few steps and angled his wings for takeoff, when Orion spoke up hurriedly.

“No, wait! Please. I’m sorry, but some topics are… hard to talk about.”

Some of his sadness must have bled into his tone, because Starscream looked at him again, long and searchingly before staying.

“You are strange, Orion. Definitely not what I have thought of Megatronus’s bondmate, the royal consort.”

“I’m… not what he should have for a consort.”

“You sell yourself too short.”

“Am I?” – Orion sighed, sad still, but some helpless anger also bleeding into his tone and made him speak more freely than he had wanted to. – “I am told time after time how disappointing a mate I am. So it must be true.”

Starscream’s shock was in the sudden lifting of his wings at the unexpected admittance. 

“I see… so that’s why he hid you here, far from the court…” – he murmured, for the first time sympathy colouring his scratchy voice.

“No! I mean it was my idea… actually the medic’s that I spend some time away from Mega… the court.”

Orion blushed again at the almost-said designation and the incomplete memory of that session. The monastery was his refuge, his safe heaven, but he couldn’t say that.

_He was dazed still, even after Ratchet let him online after the surgery. It was, he was told, a quite serious one, as the medic couldn’t fix his valve, it was so much damaged and so he had to replace it entirely. Consequently, Orion’s system was still working through a pain-suppressing chip that caused him to be drowsy and slow to think. But he heard their angrily yelling voices well, even as some of the words and sentences seemed to swim away sometimes._

_“There must be something wrong with his coding!”_

_Megatronus’s roar, he could identify anywhere. It was the usual angry, sneering and dissatisfied one which he always used when talking about his bondmate. The one that always made Orion’s tank tremble inside and his vocalizer to stick. But apparently the other speaker wasn’t intimidated so much by it._

_“Nothing is wrong with the consort. Not with his coding and not with his hardware. He is perfectly fine – I mean he will be perfectly fine when he heals.”_

_The other voice took Orion a few breems to identify, before he remembered the medic who was called in latest, a specialist at last after Hook admitted that he had no idea why the sparklings all aborted and deactivated. His designation was… Ratchet and underneath the gruff outer mask he seemed to actually care far more than Hook ever did._

_“There must be! He carried and bore all those deformed… monstrosities! He had to be defective somehow!”_

_“But he is not! I am the medic and I can tell you that there is nothing to fix. Physically, that is.”_

_Ratchet, interestingly didn’t sound to be cowed by the Kaon king’s furious roar, which surprised Orion greatly and earned his admiration simultaneously. Few mechs could or dared to stand up to the large mech who never hid that he could and would kill if displeased enough. Orion himself, knowing what Megatronus was capable of during his fits of rage, showed not a single sign that he was online and hearing them. Let any mech call him a coward, but he has never been a match for Megatronus in any way._

_“Then, medic, tell me why the sparklings were deformed?”_

_Ratchet straightened up to his full height, which still hasn’t come up to Megatronus’s shoulders. Undeterred by the looming frame over him, he put as much ire into his voice as he could – and nomech else dared so far when talking to the king._

_“From the injuries that I had to fix and from the look of some of his memories, which I had to check – I would say it was your doing, Lord Megatronus.”_

_Orion suddenly understood the expression of “ringing silence’. He didn’t dare to move, but at the same time he wanted to defend the brave medic from the inevitable wrath of his bondmate. Not that he could have, but he’d hoped that the brave mech survived his honest answer._

_“WHAT???”_

_Megatronus was so angry that if looks could kill, Ratchet would be dead in nanokliks. But the medic was a famous one, from Iacon, which would be a problem if any harm would come to him… and so he held himself back with some effort. Besides he was amazed that a simple medic had the ball bearings to say that to his faceplates and if anything, Megatronus could respect a strong mech._

_“Explain yourself, medic… or you’ll be in trouble for speaking so to me.”_

_Ratchet apparently wasn’t moved by the impressive display of threat towards him – or he was a good enough actor to hide it, Orion wasn’t sure. In either case, it earned him Orion’s eternal respect as well as his gratefulness for speaking out where he could have just fixed the injuries and blame the sparklings on the young mech’s defective CNA. Like Hook did._

_“All the signs proved that the reproduction chamber was damaged from the and in accord with outwardly showing, previously fixed injuries. In plain language, he was beaten and otherwise damaged and it was transmitted to the sparking.”_

_Megatronus growled low at the accusation, but did not outright deny the medic’s arguments._

_“What about the malformed ones?”_

_“Those are even more complicated. This is why I had to check Orion’s memories, because he shows classic signs of being abused and his mental state is very precarious. His processor has some very unhealthy subroutines that were developed over time to deal with the mental stress and the situation he couldn’t change. Those protocols have interfered the normal development of the newsparks, along with definite spark damage that I would need more tests in a better equipped hospital to ascertain and evaluate.”_

_The elaborate room was deathly quiet. Orion didn’t dare to take an invent, Ratchet was finished and so awaited for the reactions and Megatronus… for once he didn’t know what to say or do. The condemning words as much as they angered him felt true, so much so that for a klik even shame flashed up in his processor for being so careless and punishing towards his mate that it actually damaged their sparklings._

_But the king of Kaon was not one to wallow in shame or admit that he was wrong._

_“That’s preposterous, medic. The physical harm… well, I might have occasionally forgotten about the sparkling or the differences in our…” – he waved the still pretending to be offline Orion carelessly – “… frame sizes and strengths. But do not dare to accuse me any further!”_

_“Well, I was asked the reason. Here it is and if you want a healthy sparkling… an heir, that is what needs to be changed.”_

_Megatronus growled and huge fists tightened until his own claws pricked his own plating. But he made no move to threaten or silence the medic, perhaps realizing that the mech would not back down, not even to him._

_“Of course I want an heir!” – he spat the words out – “But I won’t mollycoddle him!”_

_“That thought has not crossed my processor.” – Ratchet answered him dryly and Orion nearly chuckled and revealed that he was online for a while – “But he could be sent somewhere else, like a vacation. I need to monitor him for a while yet.”_

_“No way! I won’t be chea… absolutely not!”_

_Ratchet stared at the grey mech incredulously. Was that… jealousy? How could he hate so much his bondmate and be like that about him… to this degree?_

_“I’m sure that a sufficiently secure and safe place can be found.” – now, that he made him face the nasty truth, Ratchet could be accommodating and polite. Anything, to get the consort away from him, his influence and his clutches and let him heal emotionally a bit._

_It took several orns of negotiations and planning, during which Orion made himself as unassuming and obedient as he could and let the medic take up the spear, so to speak and fight his cause. He was, of course deeply grateful for the mech – to be free of Megatronus for the first time in far too many vorns was worth literally everything._


	9. Connections

Starscream came fairly regularly afterwards, nearly every second orn. He flew over the little garden, entertaining the usually one-mech audience with his acrobatics in the air, then landed and they talked for a joor or so. Not more, because the Winglord, however free he looked in the air, was a busy mech and could not take more time off from managing his kingdom and his Trine; and Orion was still afraid that somemech would spy on them and betray their friendship to Megatronus. Not the monks, he trusted them that much, but Ratchet’s little clinic has drawn a few mechs around who would not be so discreet. 

They usually avoided the topics that gave Orion grief, but one time, after a formal ball in the Kaon Palace that Starscream too was invited, he seemed strangely wanting to talk about Megatronus and quite enthusiastic about it. It gave Orion the creeps, to hear the mech he considered a friend, enthuse about Megatronus. Of course Starscream didn’t know all the details of their relationship, but he had an inkling of its nature. Still, Megatronus’s rough and brutal nature perversely intrigued the Seeker…

“I know… he behaves like a tank and has these aggressive tendencies. But he is so powerful…”

Orion couldn’t help but agree. Megatronus was certainly powerful, even compared to bigger mechs than him. Or the Seeker, for that matter, taller than the young mech, but slimmer too with those fascinating wings that exuded force and delicateness at the same time… and what Orion has secretly wanted to touch for quite a while now, but never dared to ask. 

“Powerful is alluring until it turns against you… then it is only painful.”

“Some roughness is not all that bad.” – Starscream answered playfully, his smirk alluding exactly what kind of allure he meant – “I like my partners... stronger and dominating.”

Orion couldn’t imagine that. He was forced to endure rough treatment and even rape, but he never found anything even remotely arousing in being squashed, beaten or bound. His scepticism must have shown, because Starscream hurried to reassure him.

“I know, I know! Every mech is different and you sure seem to be a softer kind.”

“I just… can’t reconcile love with abuse.”

“Domination is not abuse. It is… I guess the difference is that it is consensual or not.”

That, Orion couldn’t imagine. To allow, or even like being hurt? Getting off on pain or humiliation? They were concepts he couldn’t… didn’t even want to contemplate. Pain was pain. Pleasure was… well, he didn’t know what it was, but he had always hoped that it was different from what he experienced so far. 

“You can truly imagine Megatronus… like that?”

Starscream eagerly nodded, still not noticing the unease with which Orion handled the topic. 

“Sure! I mean, obviously he is your bonded, so it is theoretical but I do. He is so powerful, so dominating, so… strong…”

His scratchy voice became almost wishful and Orion wished he could change place with the Seeker. Let him experience all the roughness and enjoy it if he can… and let Orion go free and find happiness if he still could. Not with Starscream, no; much as he liked the flier, appreciated his beauty and enjoyed his aerial dance, Orion still considered him as a friend only, of the like he was never allowed to have. They could talk easily and their sporadic, short meetings meant that they didn’t get bored of each other either but neither of them felt any sort of love towards each other. 

“I wish you could have him.” – his voice was as bitter as the bonding was final and meant a union for life – “or him you, however it works.”

Starscream laughed, easily and without worries. He knew Orion wasn’t the least jealous of Megatronus and strongly suspected that the warlord did have his other flings beside his unhappy consort. He might even become one if his flier fancy decided to… not that he’d tell it to Orion, he wasn’t that insensitive. But it was a possibility, he could contemplate.

“Enough of that. By the way… how come you don’t seem to utilize your bond ever?”

The red-blue mech flinched hard, drawing away from the tricoloured flier on the garden bench. It was not something he’d tell to anyone but Ratchet… but then, the Seeker might understand with his queer ideas about pain and pleasure…

_The bond took amidst pain for Orion and a strong wave of pleasure from Megatronus. It burned his spark, stabbed it, but the connection that would bind them together forever opened up and he could feel his bondmate for the first time. There were no words, the fledgling bond only conveyed some emotions and hazy, undefined thought-concepts that twisted and scoured as they swirled around. They were dark like stormclouds and sharp like lightning, just like Megatronus himself, pointed and adorned like armour and weapons. The odd angles hurt, the pressure grew and his spark spun faster and faster as charge poured into it from a far older and stronger one._

_His physical pain took a backseat to the one growing inside his core, the electrifying feeling that his processor could not for the life of him label as pleasurable. He was approaching overload, his meta whispered, but he could not enjoy any of its painful intensity. It was too much, too forceful, too painful. It scoured his relays with dark, molten fire and slammed into his processor like a wrecking ball, suppressing his scream easily with its dark, shining, blinding intensity. Orion mercifully gave in the fall into darkness and felt no more._

_In time the pleasureless overloads of the spark-merge became more familiar – albeit no less painful. Orion resigned himself to not knowing pleasure ever – Megatronus seemed not to care about it, and later, when he tried occasionally, the younger mech was far too fearful of him to even consider the rough touches as trying to arouse him. But the bond was a particularly sore point in everything that he had to endure._

_Megatronus kept himself closed from him nearly all the time, the dead end of the bond feeling like a dark, careless void, a hole that swallowed everything that Orion tried to pour into it and gave no notice of it at all. No reaction, no answer, no bondmate to lean on or support – for all the fact that they were bondmates, Megatronus could have been – or he was in fact – a complete stranger. A stranger who held all the reins in his stern servo, who kept him leashed and bound to himself… but who gave back nothing that Orion would have to give._

_The only times when he felt anything from his bondmate were during his attempts to spark him. That they caused him no joy or pleasure was no surprise but in time, when Orion learned to read his bondmate’s signals better, he learned the even more painful truth. Megatronus actually enjoyed hearing his painful moans, he drank in the screams and his spark spun faster as it soaked up the younger mech’s pain and sorrow._

_It was sick and twisted, Orion thought, that he loved causing the pain and feeling its echo through the bond. Privately, Orion was not even surprised that newsparks that were created amidst those twisted, perverted roiling of emotions came out malformed and unable to grow into healthy protoforms. Had even one been saved to live he would have shuddered its mental state later. But none did and secretly it was a shameful kind of relief to him._


	10. News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flasbacks end now as the fic turns into the finishing straight...

Orion sat beside Ratchet in the monastery’s refectory, patiently waiting for the serving monks to distribute the energon cubes. It was a time-honoured tradition that they never deviated from, not even for their guests. For the monks, it was the time they gained their meagre news about the world; lacking newsnets or viewing stations, they got it from those of the order, whose tasks took them to the nearby cities. The pleasant, soft susurration of gossip and friendly conversations swam in the air, none of it is usually loud enough to disturb each other, or the simple enjoyment of refuelling.

Orion loved their simple, uncomplicated way of life. They worked hard, meditated quietly, prayed and rested naturally, never forcing themselves or each other to anything they didn’t want to. It was as far removed from the intrigue-laden, forced and unnatural atmosphere of the courts he knew so far, as their monastery was from the population centers. It was as though he has suddenly took a refreshing vacation from his former, stifling life. He just had to forget that it was only temporary, before Megatronus got to the end of his never long patience and ordered him back.

But this orn’s usual buzz was somewhat louder and more excited than usual, the movements and gestures of the normally reserved monks just a tad bit more active, creating an effect of important things to come. Orion never wanted to offend the monks by eavesdropping on their little stories exchanged, but the general mood of the room affected him as well. Ratchet, with his usual focused manner was drinking his cube and not bothering about the inconsequential monastery life.

As they finished their cube of the monastery’s own, excellent quality produce of energon, Orion’s curiosity got better of him and he discreetly dialled up the sensitivity of his audial sensors. At first there was nothing important, just small talk, but in time he got snatches of conversations that were… strange. Definitely not their usual, calm and timeless existence. Something important was going to happen and they excitedly talked about cleaning to be extra fastidious, debates about decorations being set out or the time-aged walls remaining bare as the Builders intended them to be, about the garden being tended to produce the best effect…

Somemech important was going to visit, Orion was sure after listening in to several snatched conversations, but no monk actually said a designation or anything helpful to just make a guess. Whoever the mech was, Orion already bemoaned his visit for disturbing the peace and quiet that was his best friend in healing, as well as probably making his meetings with Starscream impossible. He’d have to tell the flier to stay away from the garden until the visitors too left. 

Some time later he was sitting at his usual place in the garden, but unable to daydream as he usually did, for the garden was becoming more busy as time went on. At every corner a monk was carefully cleaning and arranging the crystals, scrubbing the benches and collecting even the tiniest broken fragments from the ground before raking it into pleasing swirls and glyphs. So far none of them came to his little alcove as they were focusing on the bigger central part, but he knew that in time this part would come under scrutiny as well.

Just as he decided to retreat to his room when he caught a snippet of a conversation from the other side of the large crystal growth he was situated; two monks discussed the tasks they were set out to do. What he heard was the first clue to the visitors, so Orion remained where he was, not quite eavesdropping as they weren’t talking too quietly to hear…

“He is too big to comfortably walk on these paths and he has an entourage as well.”

“Nevertheless we have to clean here too.”

“I didn’t mean that we shouldn’t. Just that he might want to.”

“We won’t rearrange the paths either to fit him.”

“It wouldn’t take a lot. See, here, this corner, and that jutting Praxian crystal and the path is much wider.”

“The Praxian one is the most sensitive in the garden. It might get damaged while moved.”

“We just have to be extra careful.”

“Why would he want to walk these back paths anyway?”

“I think… I think because of our other guest, you know, the Iaconian. He is often hiding back here.”

Orion startled badly as he heard himself mentioned. Optics wide and vents picking up, he wondered why on Cybertron the guest would want to see him. Or even how he knew he was here. He haven’t had a single visitor since coming to the monastery, aside from Starscream of course; nomech in the court cared about the scorned consort and to be honest, Orion didn’t care about them either. Maybe a bot from Iacon? He hardly even remembered them and he had no friend there either. To even think of his relatives coming was a laughable idea too. They were all from Sentinel’s side and aside from Hot Rod, all flaunting the same attitude as the king. He continued to listen to the monks.

“Ohh. Poor thing. But why would he want to see him?”

The smirk was audible in the other monk’s voice.

“I have my reasons to think so.”

“Come on now, you know something. Pray tell!”

“Ohh, all right. But keep it quiet, will ya?”

“Sure.”

“I heard that…” – Orion nearly heard the monk turning his helm this way and that to check they weren’t overheard. He too was keeping absolutely still, making no noise whatsoever. – “… that they are mates, if you can believe that!”

Orion’s whole inside turned to ice and his processor stuck on that dreadful word. Only his spark spun faster and faster, like it wanted to jump out of his chest. Dimly, he heard the monks continuing chatter but he cared for none of it any more.

“No! I can’t believe that! I mean… sheesh, truly a poor thing then.”

Megatronus was coming after him? Orion grabbed the back of the bench, because suddenly he felt so weak as to just fall off of the seat and faint to the ground. His processor too spun up and churned out thoughts in a dizzying rate. What should he do? What could he do? Why would he come? Why so soon? He didn’t feel healed or ready to go back to the palace with Megatronus. Pit, he might never feel ready for that. But he’d hoped for more time for… for peace and healing. His tanks suddenly felt like a great weight lodged itself into them. 

“Yeah. Feel sorry for him too. Doesn’t look a happy bonding at all.”

Orion fought with gravity to rise and stand up, leave the support of the bench and the sanctuary of the crystal-shadowed alcove. His legs were trembling, his steps wavering and unsure like a sparkling’s. He stumbled out of the little place and onto the path leading to the monastery itself. A last sentence from the conversation reached his audials from the monks behind.

“Well, maybe their time apart made it better?”

Orion snorted, the sound nearly turning into a sob, which he stifled back ruthlessly. Fat chance for that. Megatronus, changing? No way. The mech was the epitome of an unmovable object cast in stone and braced with steel girders. Orion focused into not breaking down before reaching his room. He managed to, but it was a close thing. Once there, he stumbled to his berth, crawled into the corner, curled into a ball and gave himself over to his misery.

“What happened?” – Ratchet was very worried. There hasn’t been a panic attack for Orion the last groon, the young mech seemed to heal slowly, come out of his shell and became interested in the monks’ work too. The medic wasn’t sure what caused the change, but he welcomed it none the less. But now… Orion looked to be back in the state when he arrived, trembling, sobbing, a veritable mess physically and emotionally.

“H-he is c-coming, Ratchet…” – the static-laden voice was barely understandable.

“He…?” – for a klik he wasn’t sure whom Orion meant. But it wasn’t long. – “He?!? Why?”

“Don’t… know. J-just heard… from the m-monks.”

“Fraggitall! Couldn’t he keep his word?”

“W-what word?”

“He swore to give us as much time as you need and I was to decide when to go back. Apparently he forgot that. Slag!”

“R-ratchet… I can’t… just c-can’t. Not yet…” – Orion looked at the medic begging, though he knew that the other couldn’t do a miracle either and dissuade Megatronus from visiting the monastery.

“When is he coming? Soon, I take it?”

“I don’t know… didn’t hear that.” – Orion struggled for his mask, the one that for vorns helped him to appear calm while hurting inside. It was harder to put it on now, much harder than before. Here, he had experienced peace for the first time and the simple happiness of having a friend, being allowed to live as he wished even though it wasn’t anything rich or spectacular… and he didn’t want to give it up again for the pain, scorn and humiliation from Megatronus and the whole court. 

But he still had no choice.

The next few orns, his fear intensified as the monastery stirred up in preparation for the important visitor. While the area of Helix was not under his rule directly, even the peaceful monks couldn’t escape the realities of the outside world. Megatronus could be the greatest threat and the only protector they had, so the continued existence of the monastery was basically in his servos. While the abbot was completely sympathetic to Orion’s situation, he couldn’t endanger his monastery for refusing the Kaonite king to visit or even to reclaim his mate, should he wish so. 

For Orion it was perfectly clear and he didn’t even ask the abbot to do so. Ratchet was far angrier and tried to reason with the mech as well as trying to contact Megatronus to stay the hell away – but neither attempt was particularly successful. Megatronus was coming, albeit they still didn’t know exactly when.

But Orion was increasingly more troubled by the fact that Starscream didn’t turn up the last few orns, so he couldn’t warn the Seeker to stay away while Megatronus was there. Nor could he say good-bye to the mech fearing that his bondmate’s visit was more than just to see him and he might want to take Orion back with him. He could only worry as his processor churned out scenario after scenario, should the two volatile personalities meet and clash. Neither of those ended well.


	11. Karma

Freshly waxed, polished and adorned with the empty baubles of his meaningless title, Orion stood on trembling pedes in the monastery’s refectory, the news being that Megatronus would arrive sometime during the orn. The monks milled around him, some casting sad looks at him, some politely trying not to do so – the whispered rumours spread to nearly all of them during the last few orns. He wore a bland, frozen, unemotional mask he’d retreated into lately again, and not even the medic could reach him since. He became distant, like not fully in this world, removing himself, in preparation for what was to come. 

But Megatronus was late and instead of him only a message came, that the King decided to stop at a famous sight and memorial of some long-deactivated warrior ancestor of him few hics away and Orion ex-vented a tiny sigh of relief even at this probably slight delay of the inevitable. The excited and somewhat disappointed crowd of monks dispersed to their tasks and rest and Orion, after waving to the medic, spurred by a sudden, unexplainable urge made his way towards the crystal garden in haste.

It was nearly empty but Orion didn’t come in vain, his instincts whispered him true; on the clear skies a tiny, tricoloured figure spun and rolled in his marvellous aerial ballet. Orion’s lipplates drew to a tiny, happy smile as he leaned back on his favourite bench to better see the dance, which was by this time performed for him too, he knew. Starscream, he learned was incredibly vain and soaked up attention and praise like a sponge. 

Just in time, the thought flashed across Orion’s processor, just in time before… before things could turn dark and dangerous. It was perhaps Primus’s gift for them to delay Megatronus and lead the Seeker here for a farewell. It would be their last meeting, the young mech knew for certain; had Megatronus suspected them to be friends, even the Seeker’s strange infatuation with the warlord wouldn’t save him. But now he had time to warn the Seeker away…

Starscream twirled a few more times and soared over his helm so low that Orion instinctively ducked and landed flamboyantly in front of him. The young mech smiled happily and good-naturedly applauded him, which the flyer took with an exaggerated bow and made both of them to end up laughing. Orion could even cast his worries a bit farther for a few breems in the light of their easy relationship.

“Couldn’t come earlier…” – Starscream started apologetically – “… the duties of a Winglord, a Trine-leader, and all that jazz.”

“I wouldn’t want to come between you and your duties.” – Orion smiled back to him, but it turned nervous soon –“But I must admit it is fortunate that you came now. There is a matter that… that might cause you to stay away for a while, or even more.”

“What is that? Don’t you want me to come any more?”

Starscream’s wing shot up a little and folded backwards in a gesture Orion could only guess the meaning of. It sure looked offended and his tone conveyed that as well. He hurried to explain.

“No, no! I love every time you can come!” – he noted the satisfied flare of the beautiful appendages – “It is just… just that Megatronus is coming here and…”

Orion wasn’t sure exactly how to express it, how to convince Starscream to stay away without insulting the Seeker’s pride.

“Ummm, he might take your presence here as… offending. I mean in relation to… ummm, me.”

Understanding dawned on Starscream’s faceplates, closely followed by an ugly scowl and an angry flare of his wings.

“You mean he would think that you and me…”

“Yes. He… definitely would.” – Orion swallowed dryly – “My bondmate is… ooo, not the most understanding of mechs when it comes to friendships.”

“He is slagging jealous, you mean.”

“He’s… well, quite.” –the shudder probably told more than his words so far – “He would be… very angry.”

Starscream nodded sharply, understanding quite well what Orion never said outright – but what he guessed long before, that Megatronus was simply abusing his smaller and weaker mate. And no matter what the Seeker himself thought of kinky berth-plays, with an unwilling partner it was unacceptable. Not that he or anyone else could do much against it if Orion’s own Sire didn’t… no other mech on Cybertron had the right to object to the Kaon king’s behaviour towards his bondmate.

“That is… so wrong.” – on top of it, he was the Winglord of Vos and had to think of his kingdom’s interests as well. Alienating Kaon could well mean the end of the Seeker city and Starscream wasn’t a fool. 

“It is… what it is.”

Orion’s quiet, shy voice answered to him, the young mech not even hoping or thinking of a daring, heroic rescue, as he knew quite well the realities of his situation. He’d never ask or expect Starscream to do anything for him; never in his short life did any mech help him in any way, so he wasn’t even thinking of it. – “But you shouldn’t be… implicated in this matter.”

Starscream frowned back, clearly unsatisfied with the situation which made him look unfeeling and afraid of Megatronus, but he really didn’t want to confront the warlord over his mate. Friends they might be, but not that close and secretly, the Seeker had more plans with the Kaon king in the future than with his politically insignificant mate. He had sympathy for the young mech’s situation, but saw no way to actually help him out of it. He laid a servo on Orion’s arm, gently stroking it, but his voice remained steady.

“Very well, I shall not come here for a few… orns? How long is he staying?”

“I’m not… sure. He might want me to go with him, back to Kaon.”

“I see. I’ll fly around here in a few orns – he can’t think anything of it, I’m sure – and if you are here still, signal somehow.”

Orion nodded, not really trusting that he could do so, but humouring the flier all the same. But as he started to speak up in answer, several things happened at once. He felt picked up by the neck from behind, shaken and thrown down several paces away, the sudden crash knocking his equilibrium chip off, making him dizzy as he lay on the ground, an unfortunate crystal’s shards embedded into his armour several places. But he still recognized the roar that rose up behind. Megatronus apparently decided to come this joor. 

Orion lifted his aching helm to see the very spectacle he dreaded and wanted to avoid. A few paces away from him Megatronus held the tricoloured flier by the throat, his other servo punching the slim figure into the cockpit, shouting obscenities at him all the time. As the gold-tinted glass shattered, the Seeker managed to claw the grey servo off his throat and shouted back at him. But his voice was distorted by his vocalizer being nearly crushed and all that came across were some garbled curses.

“No! Please, Megatronus he did nothing!” – Orion tried to crawl closer, his helm still spinning too much to stand up. He was begging in vain, he knew, but he still had to try. But all he achieved when he got closer was a kick into the front grill, the sensitive armour buckling inwards and making him curl up on the ground in pain. Familiar pain, familiar insults, familiar situation. Orion felt helpless as remembered terror disabled his motor controls and he could only watch helplessly as the feared events unfolded.

Megatronus had the flier by the wings and Starscream, feeling his precious appendages in danger spat him even more curses and his claws tried to find the gaps in that gunmetal grey armour, to stop the much stronger mech somehow. But he couldn’t and the crunching of metal was accompanied by pained shrieks as the white wings were shredded and torn. Starscream lost the fight the klik it began, the difference between their size and stature was so great, but he really never given up fighting back until the debilitating pain from his lost wings forced him onto the ground – and under those merciless pedes that wrought even more damages into his frame. 

“Mega-tron… please…! He’s… it’s not… like you think…” – Orion could hardly speak and even if he could do so clearly, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Megatronus picked up the Seeker’s frame which by this time hardly resembled to its former, glorious self and punched him into the broken cockpit again. The shrieks intensified as the protective plating over the flier’s spark got cracked and the hits reached his spark chamber. His clawed servos, already broken, but still tried to protect his core, but there was nothing that could have stopped Megatronus by this time. The screams cut out momentarily as the blows shocked his very spark and returned again to split the air around them in their frightening intensity.

Until they didn’t. One particularly vicious blow cracked the chamber and the last scream tapered off into a hollow, dreadful gurgle that Orion recognized as the last sound he would ever make. The broken claws slid off of the dark grey plating, for the arms to hung unmoving and his dented, crushed, energon-splattered frame went limp, still in the grip of Megatronus. The bright, vivid colours of his frame slowly faded into a solid, awful grey that Orion could only watch speechless. It didn’t even take a breem for Megatronus to viciously deactivate a mech he didn’t know over an offence he only supposed to have taken place.

And those dreadful, burning red optics turned his way and Orion knew it was his turn. There was no time to mourn the deactivated Seeker, no time to lament choices and events as they came. Perhaps it wasn’t Primus’s gift after all, the thought flashed into his processor, perhaps it was Unicron’s joke rather for them to meet this orn, this joor, this breem when Megatronus could surprise them and draw all the wrong conclusions. He uncurled slightly, one servo over his injured chest and looked up to his tormentor’s optics, suddenly feeling very tired of this life, of his fate. 

What was the point of it really? To take abuse over anything he has ever done, to take insults and humiliation, just because he had no way out? But he did have one. He pointed a trembling digit towards the unmoving, broken frame of the Seeker and spoke up in an emotion-constricted – but at the same time dead - whisper.

“H-he was… he was awed by y-you. Not me, not even interested in me… just you.”

He waited a klik before he saw the fury morphing into confusion on that awful face and Megatronus started to speak up. But Orion didn’t wait to hear what he would say. With motions slow and servos trembling but determined, he tore the damaged grill away, uncovering his aching spark chamber. He saw Megatronus making a hesitant step towards him, the faint feel of the bond picking up uncertainty and strands of… hesitant fear. Orion nodded to himself. It was his only control over the situation, over Megatronus and he would exercise it now… the first and last time.

Theirs was a bond forged in pain and unwillingness, nurtured in rape and beatings, closed and unwanted unless Megatronus wished to feel Orion’s pain – but it was still a bond and it connected them in life and death. Orion didn’t fear deactivation any more. Nothing could be worse than his life, he thought. Not the Pit, not Unicron or being re-sparked as the lowest beggar or buymech in the poorest corner of Cybertron. He would loose nothing as he had nothing… 

“Stop being a fool!”

The well-known voice snarled at him, expecting him to obey. Like always. But Orion didn’t give any indication that he even heard what it said. Slowly, almost gently, his servos parted the damaged chest-plates and the tips touched the scratched, marred walls of his spark-chamber. It was, like the rest of him old while young, marred while looking pristine on the outside, scarred and broken while it should be whole and happy. It was, Orion pondered sadly, shattered already and his life was a shadow only.

The long shard of the poor, innocent crystal, broken by their struggle, found his digits’ embrace almost by itself. It could do the work, he thought lifting it up slowly, turning its jagged point towards himself. It felt like ages, but in fact Megatronus could hardly make another step and another yell before the shard punctured the wildly spinning blue spark and Orion screamed in pain. Falling backwards, feeling the encroaching cold and darkness, he still saw the great mech, his bondmate fall to his knees, those cruel servos tearing his own chest-plates as the ultimate pain speared through the bond, connecting them for the last time.

The crystal garden around their broken frames was silent again, the roiling emotions slowly dispersing from the air to give way to their soft chimes, lamenting the choices made, the deeds done and the lives lost. Glittering crystals bobbed silently, like in a wind, like they discussed what happened without words. What happened there exactly, they kept as secret from the turbulent world when the deactivated frames were discovered and mechs milled around in shock, pain and fury, wanting revenge for a king, a brother, a winglord, a trine-leader… and they remembered the nearly forgotten third mech there, that no mech came to mourn. 

His monument, the smallest, unadorned one, added as an afterthought beside the stately and great one of the king was always surrounded by the glittering, singing crystals that liked to grow around it. His designation on the small pillar was soon forgotten by the histories of mechs, the others’ faded into histories slower as befitting for kings. 

Until times changed, kingdoms fell, Cybertron united and warred and united again and another mech was sparked in Iacon and got the designation of Optimus, destined and foretold of greatness – and another one got sparked to lowly miners, got only numbers as his designation and fought his way up to be worthy of another one, one he choose after a great hero from the history-books of Kaon: Megatron. And because fate is fickle, a newly emerged Seekerling screamed loud and shrill, making his proud sire to remember a designation out of dusty tomes: Starscream. 

And the wheel of time turned again, its ponderous momentum fuelled by the joys and sufferings of mechs, oiled by deaths and sparkings. Such is fate.


End file.
